


You Ripple Like the River When I Touch You

by nowhiteflaguponmydoor



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, First Time Blow Jobs, Honey, M/M, Smutcember, inexperienced Hawkeye, soft!Trap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhiteflaguponmydoor/pseuds/nowhiteflaguponmydoor
Summary: Trap considers it for a moment, and then smiles up at Hawkeye. "What I want," he says, "is you. Laid out on your back, completely at my mercy. And I wanna make ya feel good. I want my mouth on ya and my fingers in ya. How's that sound?"
Relationships: "Trapper" John McIntyre/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 1
Kudos: 59





	You Ripple Like the River When I Touch You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justalittlegreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/gifts).



> With thanks to Greenie, who wanted inexperienced!Hawkeye and was a lovely cheerleader. 
> 
> Title comes from "Mircacles" by Jefferson Starship.

Incoming casualties have finally tapered off and blessedly, Frank had whined his way into R&R, so it's just Hawkeye and Trapper holding down the Swamp. The camp is actually very quiet; after the past few days, it appears that everyone is either lying low or has been granted passes. Trapper intends to use this to his full advantage.

They eat dinner in the mess tent, sitting pressed together from shoulders to knees. Then, he and Hawkeye shower, taking their time underneath the water that for once isn't ice cold. He can feel Hawkeye's eyes on him, but when he looks up to catch him staring, Hawk jumps and cracks a joke, blushing a little. John lets it go--but files that blush away. Maybe he can make it go all the way down.

They head back to the Swamp, and Trap pours them both a drink. "Why, thank you, barmaid," Hawkeye quips, sipping it and wincing, coughing a little. "Damn, Trap, this is strong, even for you."

John gulps his down, not breaking eye contact with Hawkeye. "I'll show you strong," he says, sitting down in the dentist's chair and tugging Hawkeye into his lap. He wraps his arms around Hawkeye, who sighs contentedly. It isn't long before he starts to nose at Hawk's head, pressing gentle kisses along the edge of his jaw and working his way up. Hawkeye tips his head to allow him better access and moans.

It's been several days since they've been able to have a free moment alone. The moan goes straight to Trapper's dick.  
Hawkeye leans down to kiss him and then shifts experimentally in John's lap when he feels him getting hard. "Did you leave your stethoscope in your pocket?" he asks cheekily.

  
This time, it's John who moans. "Damn tease," he mutters through gritted teeth. "What are ya gonna do about it?"

Hawkeye tilts his head, expression suddenly serious rather than joking. "What...what do you want me to do about it, Trap?"

  
If Trapper didn't know Hawk as well as he does, he'd have missed the uncertainty in his voice. But it's there, and it occurs to him all of a sudden: they haven't actually done anything apart from rubbing each other off in the dark and kissing. They've never really had the time to much more than that. But now they do. Now they do, and Hawk seems a little unsure.

That simply won't do. He knows Hawkeye isn't as self-assured as his bravado would have people (especially the nurses) think, at least not when it comes to this. Get him alone and he’s shy in a way that John would have never expected, but thinks is kind of sweet nonetheless.  
Trap considers it for a moment, and then smiles up at Hawkeye. "What I want," he says, "is you. Laid out on your back, completely at my mercy. And I wanna make ya feel good. I want my mouth on ya and my fingers in ya. How's that sound?"

Hawkeye goes as red as his robe. "Jesus Christ, Trap." He squirms and hides his face in John's neck. "Are you sure?"

Trapper runs a hand up Hawkeye's back soothingly. "Mm-hm. I'm sure. That sound okay to ya?"

Hawk is quiet for a moment, so Trap pokes him gently. "Hawk?"

Hawkeye mumbles something into his shoulder.

"Hawk? I didn't hear ya. If that's not what you want, that's alright, we can--"

"Isaidnoone'severdonethatformebefore."

Oh. Oh. _Oh._

Trap chooses his next words carefully. "Never, Hawk?"

Hawkeye shakes his head, still against Trap's shoulder. His back has gone almost rigid and his shoulders are hunched, more than usual. Trapper's hand finds the back of Hawkeye's head, stroking his hair. "Easy," he says. "Easy, Hawk, 's'alright. We don't gotta do anything ya don't wanna."

Hawkeye makes a sound of frustration that doesn't help John's situation in his pants. "No, no no no, Trap, I do. I just--I've never done that. I mean, I've fooled around some, but..." He sighs. "It's not like people always want to return the favor. And honestly, the...the other thing. Seems kind of intimate."

Trap has to chuckle at that. "Hawk, it _is_ intimate. That's kinda the point."

Hawkeye sighs. "I...look, Trap. I just don't want to disappoint you."

Trapper scoots out from under Hawkeye so that he winds up in the chair and then kneels down at Hawkeye's feet and makes sure to catch his eye. "Hawk," he says, no trace of levity on his face. "You ain't gonna disappoint me. So you're not so experienced. No one starts out that way. If you truly don't wanna, fine, but don't tell me no because you're afraid you'll do it wrong."

Hawkeye gazes at him, considering. He fiddles with one of John's hands where it's come to rest on his knee. "You'll go easy on me?" he finally says.

John nods seriously, picking up Hawk's hand and kissing it. "Yeah, honey. I'll go easy on ya."

Hawkeye smiles shyly. "Alright," he says quietly. "How d'you want me?"

Trap considers him for a moment. "Strip."

Hawkeye's eyes widen but he toes out of his boots before standing up. Trap rises along with him and watches as he slowly unties his robe and lets it fall back into the chair. He stands there in his shorts and undershirt, and John can tell he's just a little unsure. "Go on, Hawk," he says. "Show me."

Hawk strips off his shirt next, shivering slightly as the cooler air makes contact with his skin. Trap can't help himself, he pulls him close and runs his hands up and down Hawkeye's arms. Hawk breathes in shakily and looks up at him, holding his gaze as he hooks his thumbs into his shorts and shimmies out of them.

John gives him his best once-over. "Good," he says. "Now lie down on my cot."

Hawk steps past him and does as he's told, eyeing Trap with a wary but not disinterested gaze. John busies himself fumbling inside his footlocker and pulls out a small jar of Vaseline. He sets it to the side so it's in easy reach, before grabbing an extra pillow and stuffing it under his knees.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Hawkeye asks, a bit of his usual bravado seeping through.

John looks around, confused, before Hawkeye raises an eyebrow and gestures at him. "You seem to be overdressed."

Trapper chuckles, and shrugs. "I don't need to be naked for this part."

Hawkeye pouts. John reaches for his robe.

He disrobes down to his shorts, but leaves those on for the time being. Hawkeye sighs in contentment at the sight and John stands back up and gets onto the cot, spreading out over Hawkeye so that he's on his hands and knees and leaning down over him. Hawkeye smiles, and reaches for John's dog tags, pulling him close and kissing him. "Hello, sailor."

They kiss for bit, sweetly and then turning filthy. John can feel Hawkeye starting to stir against him, and reaches down to wrap a hand around his dick. Hawk hisses, but when John looks up in alarm, he bites out a "no, feels good" and so John proceeds to give him a few experimental strokes, soft and lazy, before leaning down and continuing to kiss him. Hawk moans against him and raises his hips, chasing the feeling of Trap's hand against his dick.

Trapper breaks the kiss and slowly eases himself down Hawkeye's torso, leaving kisses and biting playfully as he levers himself so that he's face-to-face with Hawkeye's cock. _It's really a handsome cock,_ he thinks surprising even himself with the thought. With one upward glance at Hawkeye to make sure he's still okay, Trapper leans down and slowly takes Hawkeye into his mouth.

Hawkeye's hips almost immediately buck up, chasing the wet warmth. Trap lays an arm across his hips and pulls away. "Easy, Hawk," he says.

"Sorry," Hawk bites out. "Feels good."

Trapper grins. "I know."

That earns him an eye roll, but he doesn't care, going back to the task at hand. He takes Hawkeye back into his mouth just a little at a time, until his mouth is full. He pauses, getting used to the feeling--he doesn't want to gag--before he starts to bob his head.

Hawkeye is wound up so tightly that John rubs at his hip soothingly. He relaxes slightly, and Trap continues licking and sucking at Hawkeye, who's starting to babble.

"Jeez--Jesus _fuck_ Trap, feels good, so good, fuck--" His hips, though still restrained by Trapper's arm, are trying hard to buck up. When John thinks he's gotten used to it enough, he pulls his arm back, and Hawkeye fucks into his mouth, breathing erratic and moaning--but trying hard not to, to be quiet. It's one of the hottest things John's ever seen.

Hawkeye has one hand against his mouth, the other tangled up in the blankets. Trapper reaches for the hand in the blankets and guides it to the top of his head.

Hawkeye gets the idea and threads his fingers through Trapper's curls, pulling just a little, just enough to make Trapper even harder. He puts that to the back of his brain, though, and focuses on Hawkeye.

He wraps a hand around the base of Hawkeye's dick and pulls back, taking a big breath before swallowing him down as far as he can, moving his tongue along the underside of his dick. Hawkeye’s grip in his hair turns almost painful in response; Hawk’s head is thrown back and his body coiled tight. John strokes his skin with his free hand: his belly, his arms, down the side of his leg. He means for it to soothe, but Hawkeye trembles even more.

“Trap, Trap, _Trapper_ …” His voice has an edge to it, and John pauses, looks up, but Hawkeye whimpers and chokes out “don’t stop...Please, Trap, ‘m so close.”

Trapper dives back down, attacking Hawk's dick with renewed enthusiasm. Hawk's hand once again is buried in his hair, and when he comes, the hand tightens almost to the point of pain. Hawkeye swears and chokes out John's name, shaking and trembling as Trap swallows as much as he can before pulling off. He collapses against Hawkeye, resting his head against his hip, breathing heavily.

Trap is still for a few moments, taking in the feeling of Hawkeye under him trying to catch his breath, still shaky from his orgasm. When it seems like he's got himself a little more under control, John turns his head and kisses Hawk's hip, before tilting his head up to look at him. "Ya okay?"

A slightly hysterical laugh answers him, and Hawk's hand reaches down to pet at John's hair. "Mmm. Yeah. That, that was--god, John."

Trapper smiles. "Good."

"Just...hang on a minute, Trap, and I’ll take care care of you.”

Trapper shakes his head, nuzzling Hawkeye's belly. "Nope. Not through with you yet."

"Well, I don't think you're going to--oh." Hawkeye tenses up a little. "I thought you'd forgotten about that."

John levers himself up so that he's leaning over Hawkeye and can see his face clearly. "Nah," he says. "Wanted to make you feel good first. So it'd feel even better."

Hawkeye groans, and throws a hand up over his eyes. "That still good with ya?" Trap asks.

Hawkeye nods enthusiastically. Trapper reaches up to pull at Hawk’s arm so that he can see his face. Hawk gazes up at him, eyes heavy-lidded and sparkling despite the blue being diminished by the black of his pupils. Trap leans down to kiss him sweetly. "Tell me if I hurt ya, or if ya need me to stop, okay?"

Hawkeye nods again, and Trapper presses a kiss to his nose before getting up, finding the Vaseline he'd stashed and fishing a glove out of his doctor's bag. He kneels down at the foot of the cot on the pillow and puts a hand on Hawkeye's ankle. "Scoot down, Hawk."

Hawk does as he's told, and John arranges him so that Hawk's legs are draped over his shoulders. He puts on the glove and opens the Vaseline, and presses a kiss to the inside of Hawkeye's knee. "Ready?"

Hawk takes a deep breath. He's nervous, Trap can tell, but he nods. "Yeah," he says, looking up at Trap with an expression that reflects his anxiety but also his trust in Trapper. "Yeah, I'm ready."

John dips his gloved index finger in the Vaseline and puts his other hand on Hawkeye’s leg, ready to soothe if necessary. “I’m gonna take it slow, Hawk. It...it might burn a lil’ bit, but if it hurts, if it doesn’t feel good, ya gotta tell me.”

Hawk nods, and Trap presses the tip of his finger to Hawk’s hole, circling the tight ring of muscle. Hawkeye twitches infinitesimally, like a horse might. Trap watches his face intently. “Okay?”

Hawkeye nods. Trapper ever-so-slowly pushes just the tip of his finger in. Hawkeye hisses, but before Trap can say anything, he blows out puff of air and says “‘s fine, Trap.”

Trapper nods, and moves the tip of his finger around in a circle, slowly stretching Hawkeye. Hawk shifts his hips like he’s unsure whether to move towards or move away from the unfamiliar sensation.

“Good, Hawk, you’re doin’ good,” Trap says, eyes focusing on what he’s doing rather than Hawkeye’s face. “I’m gonna go a little deeper.”

He pushes further in about to his second knuckle, and Hawkeye gasps. “Shit,” he says.

John pauses, lets him get used to the sensation, and then starts his circles again. Hawkeye moans, hips shifting and clenching around Trap’s finger. If Trapper weren’t already hard, that alone would have done it. Slowly, he pushes his finger all the way in. Hawk is a bit tense again, and Trapper runs his free hand up and down his leg. “God, Trap,” he says, head tilting back and eyes shutting. “This...it feels--” He opens his eyes and looks back at him, but he’s apparently lost for words.

Trapper nods, still stroking his other leg. “I know. Stay with me, though, ‘kay?”

Hawkeye laughs, and it’s just a little bit on the hysterical side. Trapper spits into his hand and takes Hawk’s cock and strokes slowly, lazily, like he’s got all the time in the world. He does that a few times before he starts moving his finger again in time to his strokes, and Hawkeye gasps, breath starting to come quicker.

Trapper continues this lazy pace until Hawkeye starts to get hard again, and he pulls his finger out of Hawk’s hole slowly, still stroking him ever so softly, before coating his fingers with more of the Vaseline and pushing his index and middle finger in when he’s next on an upstroke. Hawkeye yelps, turning his head back and forth. “Trap, Trap--” He’s breathing heavily and Trapper pauses and then scissors his fingers, stretching Hawk as best as he can.

When Trapper gets both fingers in all the way, he circles them again, even slower, searching, and--”Fuck!” yells Hawkeye, body jolting, but it isn’t from pain. “Wha-what was that?”

Trapper smiles, and does it again. Hawkeye’s legs tremble around his shoulders. “Feel good, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” Hawk pants. “Yes!” Trapper chuckles and kisses Hawk’s knee. He takes Hawkeye into his hand again and strokes, this time faster, and picks up the speed of his fingers inside Hawkeye, who is quickly turning into a panting, quivering mess. “Trap, Trap,” he cries. “Mmm...Trap.”

Trapper shifts so that he can lean down closer to Hawkeye, whose hands are fisted in the blankets, knuckles so tight he’s almost worried about Hawk’s fingers. “You look so good like this, Hawk,” he breathes. “Takin’ me so nicely.”

Hawkeye whimpers. His eyes are closed, and John thinks he’s close. He picks up his pace even more, before shifting so he can get his mouth on his dick, and as soon as he does, Hawkeye wails. It’s a bit of an odd stretch, but Trap could care less. Hawkeye looks so thoroughly debauched, so beautiful, that it aches, and Trapper’s dick throbs in his pants. _Fuck it_ , he thinks, and reaches down to free it, tugging roughly while still working on Hawkeye, who is moaning his name like it’s the only word he knows. Trapper pulls off of him for just a second; Hawkeye nearly screams. “I know, Hawk. You close?”

Hawkeye’s answer is another high-pitched whimper and he manages to nod. His eyes are screwed up tight, and his body is strung like a bow, abdomen and legs shaking, cock leaking, and so tight around Trap’s fingers.

Trapper pants at the sight of him. “Alright, honey,” he says breathlessly. “Let go.” And he swallows Hawkeye down almost to the root.

Hawkeye comes just a few moments later--Trap’s name mixed in with either curses or prayers, John actually isn’t quite sure. The feeling of Hawk coming down his throat and rippling around his fingers is too much for Trapper, and he comes, too, come going all over his hand and pants, but he can’t bring himself to care. He pulls off Hawkeye when he whines and pulls gently at Trap’s hair, overstimulated and sensitive.

Trapper pants against Hawkeye’s thigh and gets ahold of himself again. His fingers are still in Hawk’s ass. “Hawk?” he asks, softly. Hawkeye moans in response, words utterly beyond him. “‘M gonna take my fingers out, Hawk.”

Hawkeye nods and John does, slowly. Hawkeye still hisses at the loss of him.

Trap pulls the glove off and tosses it aside--he’ll get in a bit--and wipes his other hand on the pillow. He crawls up to Hawkeye, who paws at him until he’s got him nestled in his arms. Trapper worries that his weight is crushing him, and tries to hold himself up a little, but Hawkeye pulls at him until he’s relaxed against him. Hawk’s breath is still coming in fast, as is John’s, and he can feel the rapid heartbeat where his head rests on Hawkeye’s chest. They breathe, slowly coming down from their shared high. John finally looks up at him and is shocked to see that Hawk’s eyes are red, tear tracks visible on his face.

He arranges himself so that he’s more beside than on top of Hawkeye, and raises a hand to his cheek. “Hawk,” he says, voice sounding raw even to him.

Hawkeye turns to look at him, and smiles, bringing a hand to cover Trap’s and bringing it to his lips. “S’okay,” he whispers. “Think you broke me.”

Trapper chuckles, but it’s a little on edge. “Hawk, I--”

Hawkeye cuts him off. “Trap,” he says, eyes closing. “That was...like nothing I’ve ever felt before.” He opens his eyes and presses his forehead to John’s. “Thank you.” He presses a kiss to Trapper’s nose, then finds his mouth. He moans when he finds that he can taste himself. Trap nuzzles at Hawk’s nose, pulls away just a little. “You’re welcome,” he says quietly, shy in a way he usually isn’t.

They kiss just a little bit longer, until Hawkeye shivers and John realizes he’s still naked, exposed. He finds the blankets and tugs them over the two of them, bundles Hawkeye up and holds him tightly. Hawkeye’s got his arms around him, too; his hands find John’s curls and softly stroke through them, and then down his broad back. “Keep that up and you’ll put me to sleep,” he threatens. Hawkeye just laughs, and keeps up his ministrations. Trap lets him a little while longer, before pulling away and crawling out from under the blankets. Hawkeye makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat, and Trap kisses the top of his head. “‘M gonna get a washcloth,” he says. “Clean ya up.”

Hawkeye shakes his head. “Not yet. We’ll go shower in a little bit.” He tugs Trapper back down to him. “Not yet.”

Trap gets the message and lets Hawkeye arrange him as he pleases. Fine, he thinks. He’ll let Hawk rest a little, and then he’ll get them both up and off to the showers; no one will be around to question two showers in one day.

Heck, maybe they can get a little dirtier before they get clean.


End file.
